Aboard the Regal Arrow
by SparklingLetters
Summary: Robin is annoyed when his ship refuses to sail without a certain shamelessly delayed passenger. While waiting for new wind to rise to finally set the ship in motion, he makes the brief, peculiar acquaintance of Mary Sue, who 'ships it' (whatever that means), and an equally obsessive community of people similarly afflicted. But the truly life-changing encounter has yet to follow…


After several days' delay, the ship had finally set out on its journey, and yet for all the progress they were making it could have as well remained in port. The air was perfectly still today as it had been yesterday and the day before, and the one before that. Robin was leaning against the wooden rail gazing into the barely stirring murky waters and felt his insides bubble with frustration. They could have been halfway there already if the captain hadn't insisted on waiting for one last passenger to board.

Robin didn't know who this passenger was; a woman, evidently, judging by how the sailors referred to her. Frankly, he didn't see why the ship can't have set sail without her – surely it would have made no substantial difference to the crew if a cabin had stayed empty. The fee had been collected, so why was her actual presence so important? She should have bothered coming in time, or else she could always have found another ship to cross the seas on. He had seen ships enough in port: ships big and small; vulnerable defenceless ones seemingly afloat by sheer power of belief, anchored beside massive vessels bearing cannons and oozing self-assurance; and even the sad, heart-wrenching torso of a sunken ship further out to sea. Yet it seemed to be a given that this woman board this ship and this alone for this particular journey. So it happened that she was finally here now, lodged in the captain's cabin as befit an honoured guest. And it seemed she liked it well enough there, because he hadn't seen her leave it once since they had left port.

The mysterious woman occupied his thoughts even as he made his way to his own cabin. He wasn't the only one, either. There where whispers – whispers when he was around, and animated debates when they thought he wasn't - from both the sailors and the other passengers. In fact, everyone on this ship seemed to be quite taken with her, which irritated Robin but it also amused and - oh yes - intrigued him.

* * *

As he recommenced restlessly pacing the ship prow to stern, Robin began to notice an unusual level of activity, and not of the seafaring sort. Passengers and sailors were huddled together in small groups. Robin approached them, wondering if their activities, too, would subside the way their whispers usually did, but no one seemed to pay any mind to him this time.

At the centre of the first group sat a master painter with a bold palette of colours in one hand, brandishing a brush in the other. With bold strokes, he worked a canvas outstretched on the easel in front of him, watched avidly by the small crowd. Soon more of the group took up a crayon, a piece of coal, or a brush, and began to sketch away. Robin peered above the shoulders of a pair of apprentice painters; he made out the rough sketch of a woman's face of considerable beauty. As he moved around the circle, he realised with a frown that they all seemed to be drawing the same face, and when he pushed his way to the centre and beheld the large painting of the master's, he understood this was the very woman who had been the cause of the ship's delayed departure. Where was this strange fascination coming from?

Robin moved on to the next group, centred around a young misty-eyed bard with harp in hand, singing in a gushing, honeyed voice a ballad about a tenacious she-demon with the weeping heart of an angel hidden beneath layers of rust and scars. The audience listened in awed silence as her story unfolded and found her aboard a magical ship that sailed the clouds powered by pixie dust in search for her soul mate.

Not far away, an old gloomy poet sat leaning against the mast, scribbling with his quill tales inspired by the very same person. Barely had a page become filled in his shaky handwriting, and it was already being snatched away by a hungry-looking bystander, who would crouch on the ground clutching the page and swallow the story within a heartbeat, soon starving for more. Robin stepped between readers young and old, all squinting at pages taken from stacks of varying thickness. An occasional outburst of laughter would ring through the air; however, it was far more often the case that the air shook with a moan or a wail, and someone would clutch a page to their chest and rock back and forth, cursing the writer under their breath only to beg him for more a moment later. A lone page found its way to Robin's hand, and the face he had seen on canvas and heard in ballad was conjured up by the words on the paper: the Queen of Nothing, as this particular piece had named her.

Who was she, and how did it come to be that she seemed to be everyone's Muse?

Even those without artistic pretensions were in awe of her, and all the afore-mentioned works were in great demand, passed around from hand to hand with urgent words of praise and recommendation, the groups mixing, the artists urged on by their admirers' insatiable hunger for more.

The crowd around the painter thickened and moved forward as one. Curiosity pressed Robin to join them. After a final flourish of his brush, the painter set down his palette, pulled the finished picture off the easel, and pushed it into Robin's hands. Flabbergasted, he looked down at the graceful proud figure portrayed in the act of boarding the ship; but what really shocked him was the figure of a man offering his hand to assist her, for in that man he recognised himself.

"Ugh, this just gives me so many feels!"

Robin jumped a little at the trembling voice close to his ear, and whipped around. The girl's hand flew to her mouth as she saw his face. "Holy Mary Margaret, mother of Emma! It's you!"

For all the best intentions, he had not a clue as to how to respond to that. "My name is Robin," he managed with the courtesy that was second-nature to him.

"I know! I'm Mary Sue," she squealed, "I'm your biggest fan! It's, like, an admirer," she added at his befuddled expression.

That was helpful, because the idea that had originally come to his mind was of a giant collapsible wedge-shaped device of silk used to stir up a current of air, and that certainly did not fit the situation at all. "Oh, I see. Thank you, I guess. I admit I do not often receive compliments of the sort. Although there certainly seems to be many an admirer of this mysterious lady passenger none of us has even beheld."

"Ooh, your accent just rocks my socks! And of course we all fangirl and flail about her – she's so precious she should practically be illegal!" she jumped up and down excitedly, her eyes darting to the door of the captain's cabin.

Robin decided not to point out that he didn't understand half of what she was saying, much less that a number of the people engaging in whatever 'fangirling' was seemed not to be girls. He opted for a more urgent question.

"Why is everyone making endless sketches of her? Singing praises, composing verses?" Robin paused before finishing the thought – the most perplexing question was also the craziest. He looked at the girl, who was gaping at him with poorly masked rapture. What did he have to worry about - seeming foolish next to her and her peers? "Is that the two of us in that painting?"

Her eyes bulged in surprise, then she giggled excitedly. "Why, of course! Don't you know? This is _your_ ship. And we're all totally on board." The girl's look darted from the captain's cabin to Robin as she spoke. "The _Regal Arrow_? Regal…Arrow," she emphasised with a grin. "Sounds better for an actual ship than Outlaw Queen, I guess? We all ship it!"

"They call her the Queen," Robin said slowly, indicating the captain's cabin. He was trying with all his might to make some sense of this, but the information he was receiving was confusing and overwhelming to say the least. "Me - an outlaw. But we haven't even met, ever." Surely that is relevant somehow, even she must see that.

The girl – Mary Sue, he recalled – threw him a weird, almost suspicious look. Eventually she seemed to decide there was no harm intended. "That is so not even the point," she explained somewhat wearily. "That's why we have all the fanart, among other things, you know? Just because of the lack of cannon yet-" she used the word weirdly, but what else could she have meant but the artillery weapon? "-doesn't mean this ship doesn't have the potential to practically sail itself one day!"

"We're at a standstill," Robin sighed in exasperation. "This ship is far from sailing."

"That's just because the two of you haven't met yet!" she threw her hands in the air, looking at him as though this were supposed to make everything crystal-clear to him.

"So there will be no wind to catch the sails unless she and I meet first?" The poor girl must be delirious, or else, well, not quite right in the head. With that in mind, Robin finished sympathetically: "What a…shame."

"I know, right?" she exclaimed in frustration. "We've all been waiting for it to happen for ages now!"

Mary Sue looked around and indicated for him to do the same with a huge grin. The entire crew of the ship was staring at him, sketches and stories and whatnot in their hands, their mouths agape. The only times they looked away were to check the door of the captain's cabin.

"She never comes out," he pointed out, as if waiting for her were the most foolish thing these curious people were engaging in.

Mary Sue nodded sadly, melancholy clouding her features for a moment. She perked up after a while though. "Oh, but she will. Maybe not today, maybe not even tomorrow, but eventually she will. We couldn't possibly miss it! But we'll be watching from afar, don't worry - you won't even know we're there. Just meet already!" The newly acquired gleam faded again, and her eyes looked solemn without the maniacal glint, her features sterner and more earnest. "Let me tell you this – it won't be easy, but…" she broke off, searching for words. "…well, just hang in there. She deserves to be happy. You could be each other's happy ending."

"You seem to know a lot about her, and I didn't even know she existed until recently. Obviously my utter ignorance and oblivion is no good groundwork for common happy endings, I'm sure you will see…"

To his surprise, what he had believed to fuel the girl's tirade seemed to be the very thing to hush her. "I don't want to spoil you with too much info," she grinned cryptically. "Just get ready for a major plot twist. And – feels. Soon."

Mary Sue gave him one last impish look, then disappeared in the crowd of like-minded admirers with a giggle. Robin watched them close ranks. He blinked into a flash of blinding sunlight and when he looked again, he found the deck empty but for a cloud of white feathers swirling in the air.

* * *

His eyes flickered again against the daylight, and snapped open. What a bizarre dream. He walked out into the light of dawn. The deck was completely abandoned but for the dozing helmsman. Robin picked a red apple form the basket he hadn't noticed at the foot of the mast the night before. Amongst the apples lay a single white feather. Peculiar.

A gentle breeze was stirring. Robin found his gaze irresistibly drawn towards the captain's cabin. To his great surprise, the door opened. As she emerged from the shadows of the cabin, her slender silhouette was clearly etched against the rising sun, and the rising wind ruffled her hair. He was never even aware of his breath catching for one fleeting moment.

Robin watched her descend to the deck; he felt slightly foolish somewhere at the back of his struggling mind, but at the same time his curiosity was getting the best of him, and despite himself, he was utterly captivated. Her gait was graceful and dignified. She glanced at him as she was walking by, and her eyes flitted from the apple in his hand and lingered on his face for a brief moment.

It dawned on him he had been wrong – the sketches he had believed exaggerated in fact didn't do her justice at all.

"Milady," he said with a bow. Her look when she paused was inquiring yet revealed nothing other than that she seemed to be weighing the word he had chosen to address her and the genuineness of the courtesy. Eventually, she returned the greeting with a nod, and looked towards the horizon.

Robin mused if she would prefer to be left alone but something – he knew not what - was making him stay. More than that – something was making him want to start a conversation with her.

"Is it your first voyage by sea? You seem to have taken to your cabin for quite a while."

There was no response for a moment. Then a mighty gust of wind heaved the ship somewhat, and it made a playful jolt as it crashed back amid the waves. A spray of sea foam hit them both square in the face. Robin steadied himself quickly and looked at her to see if she needed help. He caught a flash of panic in her eyes before she hid behind her sleeve on the premise of wiping the drops of water off her face. When she emerged again, she actually gave a little laugh. Robin felt a wave of relief wash over him – he knew not quite why - and was curiously reminded of a verse he fancied to have caught somewhere, about a Queen's smile lighting up the world.

She rested her hands on the rail before turning to him. "I have only been aboard a ship once before, and the wreck…" her voice trailed off. "This one has been making me…uncomfortable," she admitted with a small, slightly sad smile. "But now…the journey might turn out to be quite pleasant for all I know. I'll never know if I don't try, at any rate - so here I am."

"Here we are indeed," Robin nodded thoughtfully. He had known shipwreck, too, and her pained tone resonated within him. Her manner suggested a touch of anxiety, and he gave her a reassuring smile. "It's a good ship," he offered. "Safe."

They remained standing there, silently watching the heaving waves. There was a shout from one of the crew, and more sailors appeared on deck. The wind had finally returned, and the sails would soon billow in the fresh salty air.

The _Regal Arrow_ would finally sail.

_Author's Note: I really had ridiculous fun writing this piece, so I hope that's palpable and you enjoy reading it, too. I wasn't entirely sure just how cranky to make Mary Sue and her fellow bowls of soup – whether to remain within reason or go completely overboard. I guess I ended up doing a bit of both with Mary Sue having moments – sort of like I find myself having. ;) Did you recognise yourself anywhere in this, too? Please say it's not just me!_


End file.
